


Humans are Not Raccoons

by lorb



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, Gore, the chorus trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 17:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorb/pseuds/lorb
Summary: Simmons had only seen one carcass before the war and it haunts him now. When teammates die though, it isn't quite the same as staring at a lifeless raccoon.





	Humans are Not Raccoons

**Author's Note:**

> This sounds like a fun story from the title, but really I was stuck at a train transfixed and horrified by a dead raccoon and this was born of that. I do like angst writing, but never this dark but I hope you enjoy I suppose! Or get whatever emotion it is that you came here for. Thanks for reading!

Simmons had only ever seen one carcass before joining the war. He had been 14 and his family had just moved into a new house. It was the summer and his parents had locked him out- literally locked him out, they said he needed to make friends. So he had been following around the group of 14 year old boys who lived on the street. It was pretty clear they didn’t like him and were trying to dodge him whenever possible. But when they came across that raccoon he became the most popular person there.

“Dick, touch it.” The boy, his name now deeply lost in Simmons’ memory but his voice was still clear as day, called to him. “Fucking touch it, Dick.”

Simmons did not want to touch it. The raccoon was on the side of the road, its body still fresh enough that there was still blood coming out of its mouth. Simmons could feel his lunch sitting heavy in his stomach.

“If you don’t touch it, I’ll tell your mom,” the lead boy looked around trying to figure out what would motivate Simmons to follow his request, “I’ll tell her you tried to touch Roger!” The boys had begun to ooh and Simmons gulped.

“Fine!” His voice cracked as he stepped up. As he neared the animal he became queasy. He considered his options.

“Oh Mrs. Simmons…” his voice taunted.

Simmons walked briskly to the carcass and shoved it with his foot. The animal rolled from the impact, suddenly showing its cause of death. The bright red of blood was too much; Simmons barely squealed before his lunch made a second appearance. He could hear the boys laughing behind him. Wiping his face, he tried to run off, back through the surrounding boys, but they shoved him. He hit the ground hard.

His ass hit the pavement, his back the newly resurfaced liquid remains of his lunch, his head hit the raccoon. Simmons scrambled to get up, vaguely aware that the boys had turned tail and fled. His hand slipped in his own vomit and he found his face in the wet back of the raccoon. When he tried to wipe the blood off he only streaked it further on his face. His tears were hot streaks in the crimson stain.

Oddly enough, Simmons had sat there, staring at that stupid carcass for who knows how long. He had been afraid to go home and truly paralyzed from the event. The raccoon’s skull was visible in some parts, he noticed, but there was a lot of blood making it hard to see. Below the large crack he could see faintly gray (but still mostly red). He had nothing left to throw up. The sun began to set, the raccoon began to smell, and Simmons went home. He scrubbed his body until it was raw, crying in the shower.

* * *

 

 

 _Human bodies are not much like raccoon bodies._ These were not the thoughts that Simmons had assumed he would have staring down at a dead teammate. The helmet was cracked, there had been an explosion. This wasn’t a teammate any more, this was a carcass. _Human bones are logically pretty similar to raccoon bones._ The impact had shattered and blow open the back of the man’s head. Simmons didn’t so much as come to his knees, as his knees came up to him. Was this shock? He wasn’t sure.

 

_“This explains so much.” Grif said once Simmons had finished explaining why he got so queasy around the dead._

_“Yeah, so dead bodies aren’t exactly the best reminder for me.” Simmons stared down at the one he and Grif stood talking over._

  


_Human blood is very similar to raccoon blood._ He looked at his hands, he looked at the puddle surrounding him. It was a similar bright red in its fresh pools, like the color of cheap fake blood in the movies they would watch late into the night. The back of his teammate’s head was a chaotic wreck. Using most of his strength, Simmons rolled the body over. He didn’t feel queasy this time, he felt lost, numb, out-of-body.

  


_“Yeah, ain’t that good for him either.” Grif nudged the corpse with his boot._

_“Oh my god! Grif!”_

_“Are you going to throw up in your helmet? Because I’d pay to see that, oh god, I would pay so much for that!” Grif laughed._

  


_War isn’t that much worse than being hit by a car._ It didn’t take much to remove the remains of the helmet. Dark hair rolled out in thick waves. There was blood on his forehead, his eyes were closed. Somehow, the chaos had not quite reached his face. If he was oblivious enough, he could pretend that he was just sleeping, taking a nap like he alway did. _A very long nap._

  


_“No!” Simmons punched him in the shoulder. “You can’t disrespect the dead.”_

_“Fucking play volleyball with my head, I’m dead. What am I going to do with it.” Grif walked on leaving Simmons to sort himself out. Everything felt so simple and easy, Simmons stopped to call something to the squads behind them. He turned to see Grif make a sharp about face; maybe he had remembered he had something to say. There was a flash of light, a deafening explosion, and then the sound of Simmons’ voice screaming Grif’s name as he ran toward him._

 

There was no sound. Neither gold team nor red team dared break the silence. They watched Captain Simmons as he cradled Captain Grif’s head in his lap. There was no movement, there was no nothing. Finally they heard a sound as Simmons came to. His voice was barely a whisper.

“Oh god, oh god, no.”


End file.
